Bobby Bought A Bullet

Bobby bought a bullet in beauty’s smile

chasing his dreams of decadent decay.

He gloried in gaiety for awhile

until he danced his sweet life away.

Our town was too small; everyone knew

what that man did to him that fateful night.

The Bible belt beat him, no matter, true;

and little boy blue could not win the fight.

He painted in makeup, walked like a skirt,

and prissed about Main Street with pompous pride.

His smiles, his laughter could not hide the hurt

nor the way he crumbled, slowly, inside.

He boarded the plane with a heavy heart,

sinking in a sorrow he could not speak

until wings uplifted, to soar, depart,

winging its way like a quicksilver streak.

Los Angeles welcomed him to the game.

He dug in deeper with a sinner’s plow.

No sin was too big, no saints left to shame.

Surely this would be the life for him now!

The book of life turned into book of stone,

and there was no ace up the sleeve of spades.

He boarded the plane once again, alone.

Bobby returned home, and he died of AIDS.

Author's Note

Rest In Peace, Bobby Greer

Reviews

[sL]

Society kills the masses. You are a strong storyteller. Thank you for telling Bobby's.

[Lyn Anderson]

A really interesting piece. I feel for Bobby.